


To Be Continued

by nhpw



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Boys Kissing, Change is stupid, Established Relationship, Everything Hurts, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Sad Jensen Ackles, Season/Series 15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23237182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhpw/pseuds/nhpw
Summary: Supernatural is ending, and they can't pretend any longer that it's not.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins
Comments: 6
Kudos: 88





	To Be Continued

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody. I hope you're all doing well, that you're healthy and safe, and that you're holding up in these trying times. 
> 
> I started this... just more than a week ago. Right before things went crazy and the entire world imploded under the weight of COVID-19. Right before Supernatural shut down filming with an episode and a half left to go in their shooting schedule... forever. 
> 
> I really questioned whether, in retrospect, I should actually post this. But. I think I should. I think it speaks very well of a time when no one - not even Jensen and Misha - knew what was coming at them. And I think that getting away out of our own minds, even for the space of this one-shot, is a good idea. So I hope you all enjoy it. Take care.

It’s not a new thing for Jensen to huff in exhaustion as he returns home in the wee hours of the morning, only to glance over and see Misha already sprawled out, dead asleep and taking up more than his fair share of the bed.

It  _ is _ a new thing to feel an ache in his chest at the sight. 

Jensen casts his eyes at the ceiling and lets out a long, slow breath.

He won’t cry. He  _ won’t _ . 

He bites down on his lower lip until the lump in his throat shrinks and the urge to let go passes, and then he strides over to the bed and strips down to his boxer briefs.

Misha’s nude, which isn’t unusual. He often sleeps like that because he craves skin-on-skin even in the best of times— and also because his body puts out heat like a furnace. Sleeping with extra layers just makes it worse.

Tonight, Jensen joins him, shedding his boxer briefs as well and crawling under the sheet and light blanket to press the front of his body against Misha’s right side. He tangles their legs together, inhales at Misha’s neck, drops a kiss on his shoulder. The other man doesn’t so much as flinch, and Jensen smiles fondly.

They’ve pretended as long as they can, but there can’t be any pretending anymore. The realism of having the final scripts in their hands — Episode 15.20, the very last Supernatural script they’ll ever memorize and block and pour their hearts into — has brought the pretending to an end. It’s all too real now. This is it. This is the exposed nerve they’ve been trying really hard not to touch for fear of the pain it will bring, only to find they can no longer avoid contact. 

It’s hit Misha the hardest.

_ Strange _ , Jensen thinks absently,  _ but maybe not surprising _ . Misha’s spent a lot less time in Cas’ head over the past 15 years than he’s spent inside Dean’s, but on the other hand, Misha just has a way about his emotions. He just feels things… more deeply. With his whole self. It’s like Misha can feel his emotions from the moment they start to bubble up from his toes, and he feels every creak and crack of them as they consume his being until they’re coursing through his bloodstream, hitting points of contention every time they cross his heart and his cerebral cortex. 

“Stupid emo fucker,” he whispers hoarsely as the lump starts creeping up in his throat again.

This time, he doesn’t try to stop it.

Misha’s clearly still not awake, but as Jensen’s tears start to fall silently and his body tenses, Misha shifts closer as if by pure instinct. Now they’re sharing a pillow, and Misha’s rolled from his belly to his side with a soft sigh into Jensen’s breathing space. 

_ Blackout. The end. _

He sobs and runs a hand through Misha’s hair as the words float unbidden across his mind. He’s so tired, and morning will come too soon so he should sleep, but… that’s just it, isn’t it? Morning will come too soon, and they’ll begin again, one day closer to the last day.

One day closer to goodbye.

He closes the space between their faces and presses a feather-light kiss to Misha’s lips. “Never goodbye,” he whispers, trying to keep the hoarseness out of this one.

But it doesn’t matter.

In a blink, Misha is looking back at him in the darkness, eyes open inches from Jensen’s own, brow creased and a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Jensen?”

He sniffles and swipes at his eyes. “Sorry I woke you.”

There’s a small shake of Misha’s head against the pillow and the frown deepens. “C’mere.” It’s not more than an exhausted grunt, but Jensen knows it well and doesn’t argue. He melts into Misha’s arms, feels them tighten, and with the embrace his own shoulders loosen and an invisible weight lifts from his chest.

He sobs into Misha’s shoulder and clings on for dear life, and it crosses his mind that he’s never felt quite this way, not with his wife, who maybe he took too much for granted that he would always go home to. Certainly not with any past lovers. But with Misha… there’s a sense of change, a sense of needing to let go a little, and it hurts. “Fuck, Mish…”

There are gentle kisses being pressed against his temples, and he forces his brain to focus on those spots and those whispers of touch above everything else. It takes a minute, but it works. His heart rate slows, his breathing evens out, his hands unclench and then they’re just laying there in bed, holding each other, breathing together into the dark and quiet of the Vancouver night.

“It’s not goodbye,” Misha says after a long, long while. “Not for us.”

“I know. I know.” He nods into Misha’s neck.

“Do you?”

“I do.” He does, he really does, because he loves Misha and he trusts that they’re going to make this thing continue to work. It’s just… “Change is stupid.”

Misha huffs a laugh at that. Then he gets quiet, his eyes fixed on Jensen, and even in the darkness of the bedroom, Jensen can see the twinkle Misha gets when he’s having a Thought.

“What?” 

Misha’s mouth forms a small smile and then says, “Change brought me to you.”

If Jensen had anymore tears, he’d cry again at that. Instead, his heart just swells until it feels too big to fit in his chest anymore, like he’s just bursting with love for this man, and he knows in that moment that everything’s going to be OK. They’ll be different, maybe harder, but they’ll be OK. He presses his lips to Misha’s again, this time with more intent, and they’re both lost in the kiss and in each other for a long moment. When they part, Misha asks, “What’s the first convention after we wrap?”

Jensen hums and scrunches up his forehead in thought. “Nashville,” he says finally.

“Perfect.”

“Why’s that perfect?”

“Well,” and the mischievous twinkle in Misha’s eyes gets a little brighter as he props himself up on one elbow and licks his lips before he smiles and continues, “It seems like a great place to continue our story, don’t you think? I mean, to be fair,” and now Misha, that fucker, has a shit-eating-grin look about him, “I’d be fine continuing our story anywhere, but you really like Nashville, so I think it’s perfect.” He pecks his lips against Jensen’s as a presumed way of ending his point.

Jensen just shakes his head. “How’d I get so lucky?” 

Misha shrugs, apparently having said his piece, and snuggles back down under the covers. After a bit of squirming about, he nudges Jensen to his other side so that he can Big Spoon him, and Jensen rolls as directed without argument. When they’re settled, and Jensen starts to think the emotional moment is over and they’re just going to fall asleep wrapped up in each other and he’s OK with that, Misha’s voice breaks the silence. “You might say it’s… Supernatural.”

Jensen snorts. “Shut up.”

There’s a warm giggle against his neck, and a kiss. “No, you shut up.”

“Hey, Misha?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

A pause. “I love you too.”

“Goodnight.”

“‘Night.”

He drifts off not long after, a smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth.


End file.
